Sooooo...I live in NJ. RIGHT IN THE PATH OF THE DEADLY HURRICANE IRENE.
I kid because I can, but I'm kind of scared. I will be more than happy to feel silly on Monday morning. Look. I'm a Nervous Nellie, you guys. Though, I am sick of being told my weather-type folks to "hunker down." Yeah. We get it. I will not be floating through the streets on a surf board. I will not be standing in my front yard, trying to fly a kite. I won't be going door-to-door, ringing doorbells and yelling, "LAND SHARK!!!"* I will be sitting in my living room, enjoying the electricity, air conditioning, running water, cable, and internet for as long as I have it. I've got packing to do, since I'm moving in a week. I've got knitting to work on. I've got books to read (Room by Emma Donoghue and The Magicians by Lev Grossman). Board games. Weather Channel personalities to mock.
I'm a busy lady, ok?
We've got a radio, flashlights, non-perishable foods, bottled water, a full tank of gas, and a bag packed in case we need to FLEE. I had to battle a Lord of the Flies-esque situation at the gas station last night in order to get that tank of gas. I fought the Beast, I blew on the conch shell (NOT a euphemism. Well. Not the one YOU'RE thinking of, dirty bird), and drove away victorious.
Aaaand now the cable is flickering. Stay safe, everyone. Not today, you guys. NOT TODAY. /drama
*Though this sounds HILARIOUS.
Showing posts with label New Jersey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Jersey. Show all posts
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Living in West Virginia During the Mine Tragedy...again...
Be forewarned: this is a rambling rant, but I'm angry and this is what happens when I get angry. You may not like me when I'm angry. I don't care.
As if you couldn't tell from the title of this blog, I'm a Jersey girl; however, my beloved is a West Virginian and we all now live here; I love this state and the people here. All that being said, I'd like to give you, dear readers, a glimpse into just why the coal mining tragedy is such a huge deal to every person here.
Being from NJ, when I tell you that I'm from a working-class family I mean that I am from a family of postal workers, school teachers, and engineers; you know - Bruce Springsteen song kinda stuff. My Beau is from WV. Although his family is now considered 'well-off' (hello - a moat!!), he too is from a working class family. But in WV a working class family is something totally different from (quite literally) anywhere else in America. Beau is from coal miners and farmers as is everyone else; every person whose family has lived in WV for more than two generations is tied to coal somehow. Beau's grandmother, although in no way related to any of the persons affected by the recent tragedy was devastated by the events because her husband, seventy years ago, was a miner. Her father was a miner and she proudly has the hard hat and headlamp he used. These deaths brought back the fears and worry that she had daily; her heart was broken for these women and children whose worst fears came true.
It took about two hours from the announcement of the mine explosion before I witnessed the two churches visible from my front porch to start gathering in order to organize their collecting of food and money for the people affected; two hours and we live 90 minutes away! People are running to their churches and other nonprofit organizations to donate what they can for these people because everyone in some way, is tied to the coal industry here.
I am continually amazed at how many people are tied to the coal industry and despite how dangerous the working conditions and the job's history of violence, these people are proud of their job and the people they work with. I'm not even a native here, but my blood boils when people in DC and the entertainment industry try to step in to our state and tell us how we're doing things wrong.
People are quick to make fun of and criticize West Virgina, but the reality is that 8 out of 1o Americans don't use their minds enough to realize that West Virginia is a state, not just western Virginia.
As if you couldn't tell from the title of this blog, I'm a Jersey girl; however, my beloved is a West Virginian and we all now live here; I love this state and the people here. All that being said, I'd like to give you, dear readers, a glimpse into just why the coal mining tragedy is such a huge deal to every person here.
Being from NJ, when I tell you that I'm from a working-class family I mean that I am from a family of postal workers, school teachers, and engineers; you know - Bruce Springsteen song kinda stuff. My Beau is from WV. Although his family is now considered 'well-off' (hello - a moat!!), he too is from a working class family. But in WV a working class family is something totally different from (quite literally) anywhere else in America. Beau is from coal miners and farmers as is everyone else; every person whose family has lived in WV for more than two generations is tied to coal somehow. Beau's grandmother, although in no way related to any of the persons affected by the recent tragedy was devastated by the events because her husband, seventy years ago, was a miner. Her father was a miner and she proudly has the hard hat and headlamp he used. These deaths brought back the fears and worry that she had daily; her heart was broken for these women and children whose worst fears came true.
It took about two hours from the announcement of the mine explosion before I witnessed the two churches visible from my front porch to start gathering in order to organize their collecting of food and money for the people affected; two hours and we live 90 minutes away! People are running to their churches and other nonprofit organizations to donate what they can for these people because everyone in some way, is tied to the coal industry here.
I am continually amazed at how many people are tied to the coal industry and despite how dangerous the working conditions and the job's history of violence, these people are proud of their job and the people they work with. I'm not even a native here, but my blood boils when people in DC and the entertainment industry try to step in to our state and tell us how we're doing things wrong.
People are quick to make fun of and criticize West Virgina, but the reality is that 8 out of 1o Americans don't use their minds enough to realize that West Virginia is a state, not just western Virginia.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Jesus Ain't Down With That Shit. (I Hope.)
This past weekend, I saw two movies: Revolutionary Road (meh) and Milk as part of my Oscar Tour 2009. Anyway, I really enjoyed Milk and saw it with a very fun, receptive, reactive crowd. (That's how I like my movie-going audiences. I don't want dead silence, I want gasping and cheering and advice tossed at the screen. As long as it's related to the film at hand, I'm cool with it. It's Jersey, you kind of have to be!) At one point during Milk, they introduce the odious Anita Bryant, showing some old footage of her singing a hymn. As soon as a woman singing about Jesus appeared on the screen, everyone in the theater groaned and shook their heads or threw their hands up. Even I did this.
Now maybe some people watching the movie were specifically reacting to Bryant but I wasn't. I had only the vaguest notion of who she is before watching Milk and certainly didn't know her on sight and I doubt many of my fellow moviegoers did either. (Which is as it should be. That horrible woman should fade into absolute obscurity, only to be trotted out for mocking purposes. But I digress.) I was reacting to the fact that a religious person had been put in front of me in a movie and my knee-jerk reaction was that this could only mean bad things for these characters. I was right, of course, Milk and his team spend most of the second half of the film batting policies supported by Bryant and bigots like her. Polices that would make it legal to discriminate against people based on their sexual orientation, to fire gay teachers, you know, awesome things like that. And the usual rhetoric about how gays are trying to "recruit" kids in the their sick gay gayness. (Seriously? HAHAHAHA. These people would be hilarious if they weren't so hateful.)
Anyway, it really bothered me that I had that reaction. I'm a person of a faith, a Christian. Specifically, I attend Quaker meetings. I go almost every Sunday and I help out with the First Day School. And it pisses me off that I usually have to qualify the admission of my religion with some kind of explanation that I'm not a judgmental freak. It doesn't make me pissed at the people to whom I'm explaining it, the ones who automatically start to back away, but at the people who act like total dicks in the service of God. Why have we let them* hijack religion? And by "we," I mean, reasonable people of faith. The people who don't give a shit who you have a sex with or marry as long as everyone is over 18 and consenting. The people who don't care what women do with their bodies, whether it's birth control, abortion or sex. The people who aren't terrified of science or evolution. The people who don't give a shit if you're an atheist or some other religion. Basically, people who aren't horrified by "otherness" and hide behind Jesus in terror. It really makes me angry that people with what I feel are VERY extreme views are the ones who try to speak for Christians, who perpetuate bigotry and censorship and misogyny in the name of God. Hey, conservative Christians? YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR ME. AND YOU NEVER WILL. To semi-quote John Bender from The Breakfast Club, you don't even know my language!
I don't really have a solution to this. I guess I can just continue being a non-asshole person of faith. Well. I'm still kind of an asshole. Just not about being a Christian. Well. Not in this very specific way. Heh.
*And I don't mean people that merely hold more conservative views that I do. I know I'm pretty goddamn liberal. Many of my friends and family members are more conservative than I am and that's not a bad thing. I don't expect everyone to be like me. That would be...boring. I'm talking about scary people like Bryant (though apparently she's mellowed with age or something) and Fred Phelps (Remember him? Gay people caused Hurricane Katrina, didn't you know?) and those like them. The ones who are in the public eye and say detestable things and act like they have God's stamp of approval.
Now maybe some people watching the movie were specifically reacting to Bryant but I wasn't. I had only the vaguest notion of who she is before watching Milk and certainly didn't know her on sight and I doubt many of my fellow moviegoers did either. (Which is as it should be. That horrible woman should fade into absolute obscurity, only to be trotted out for mocking purposes. But I digress.) I was reacting to the fact that a religious person had been put in front of me in a movie and my knee-jerk reaction was that this could only mean bad things for these characters. I was right, of course, Milk and his team spend most of the second half of the film batting policies supported by Bryant and bigots like her. Polices that would make it legal to discriminate against people based on their sexual orientation, to fire gay teachers, you know, awesome things like that. And the usual rhetoric about how gays are trying to "recruit" kids in the their sick gay gayness. (Seriously? HAHAHAHA. These people would be hilarious if they weren't so hateful.)
Anyway, it really bothered me that I had that reaction. I'm a person of a faith, a Christian. Specifically, I attend Quaker meetings. I go almost every Sunday and I help out with the First Day School. And it pisses me off that I usually have to qualify the admission of my religion with some kind of explanation that I'm not a judgmental freak. It doesn't make me pissed at the people to whom I'm explaining it, the ones who automatically start to back away, but at the people who act like total dicks in the service of God. Why have we let them* hijack religion? And by "we," I mean, reasonable people of faith. The people who don't give a shit who you have a sex with or marry as long as everyone is over 18 and consenting. The people who don't care what women do with their bodies, whether it's birth control, abortion or sex. The people who aren't terrified of science or evolution. The people who don't give a shit if you're an atheist or some other religion. Basically, people who aren't horrified by "otherness" and hide behind Jesus in terror. It really makes me angry that people with what I feel are VERY extreme views are the ones who try to speak for Christians, who perpetuate bigotry and censorship and misogyny in the name of God. Hey, conservative Christians? YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR ME. AND YOU NEVER WILL. To semi-quote John Bender from The Breakfast Club, you don't even know my language!
I don't really have a solution to this. I guess I can just continue being a non-asshole person of faith. Well. I'm still kind of an asshole. Just not about being a Christian. Well. Not in this very specific way. Heh.
*And I don't mean people that merely hold more conservative views that I do. I know I'm pretty goddamn liberal. Many of my friends and family members are more conservative than I am and that's not a bad thing. I don't expect everyone to be like me. That would be...boring. I'm talking about scary people like Bryant (though apparently she's mellowed with age or something) and Fred Phelps (Remember him? Gay people caused Hurricane Katrina, didn't you know?) and those like them. The ones who are in the public eye and say detestable things and act like they have God's stamp of approval.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
There's A Lot Of SMASH Going Around Today...
Are you fucking kidding me with this? SERIOUSLY? This actually had me so angry that I was almost in tears reading that article. TEARS OF RAGE. If you didn't click on the article, the United States refused to sign a U.N. declaration asking to decriminalize homosexuality. REFUSED TO SIGN IT. The motion was to DECRIMINALIZE it, not make it communicable. UGH. And of course, we're the only western nation that didn't sign it. I am very sorry, Rest of the World. I'm sorry we're such assholes. Most of us are hoping that things will improve in about 32 days and that our dickishness will decrease at least 67%. I live in hope...
Hey kids! Want a racist or anti-Semitic birthday cake? Go to Walmart! I'm so proud to be from New Jersey AND a Shop Rite shopper. Heheheh. I have to give Mame credit for linking me to that one. She was on that shit before everyone else went crazy over it. Also, read the comments on just about ANY article on the subject and have fun watching people misunderstand the First Amendment. Apparently, birthday cake is a Constitutionally-protected right! In that case, I DEMAND vanilla cake, buttercream icing and edible glitter! And I want it decorated with a picture of Gerard Way's face. And those sparkler candles.
I'M STILL WAITING FOR MY CAKE.
Hey kids! Want a racist or anti-Semitic birthday cake? Go to Walmart! I'm so proud to be from New Jersey AND a Shop Rite shopper. Heheheh. I have to give Mame credit for linking me to that one. She was on that shit before everyone else went crazy over it. Also, read the comments on just about ANY article on the subject and have fun watching people misunderstand the First Amendment. Apparently, birthday cake is a Constitutionally-protected right! In that case, I DEMAND vanilla cake, buttercream icing and edible glitter! And I want it decorated with a picture of Gerard Way's face. And those sparkler candles.
I'M STILL WAITING FOR MY CAKE.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Happy Halloween!
So, I'm off to spend Halloween with Sid and Andie and their kids. We plan to dress Mothra and Conan up in embarrassing costumes and take pictures and laugh at them, thus really cementing their futures in therapy. Isn't that why you have children?
Mame hasn't blogged in a million years because she's got a lot going on now. She's fine, it's fine. I mean, she's so busy that she's barely talked to me. Her best friend of 16 years. Ooooh, beat THAT for passive aggression, Mame. HA! I WIN!
However, we do talk online and we would like you all to watch this: Drunk History. Our favorite is the one featuring Michael Cera of Arrested Development/Superbad/Juno fame. He plays Alexander Hamilton. 'Nuff said, right? Mame and I quote it incessantly at each other. I don't usually find drunk ramblings all that amusing, but most drunk ramblings aren't this funny. They usually consist of complains of why someone doesn't love you anymore, how much someone is going to puke or paranoias about government conspiracies. Or do I just drink with the wrong people? Hmmm...
Also, I went to this with work friends. It was AWESOME. I've yet to go to a haunted house that was really SCARY, but this had its moments and was TONS of fun. Also, may I apologize on behalf of Quakers everywhere for inventing a prison system that drove people crazy. Oops.
In Halloween movie news, don't ever watch One Missed Call, the American remake. Not the Japanese original version. I'm sure that one's fine. The American one sucks ASS. I should have know because it has Shannyn Sossamyn or however you spell her name in it. I refuse to look it up. She sucks, the movie sucks and is only suitable for mocking. Especially when you have the peanut gallery of my family. That's good times. I do, however, want everyone to know that I wanted to rent High Tension and I was vetoed. My cousin Bri swore that One Missed Call was a good scary movie and whenever it sucked especially egregiously, we would all glare at her. Ha.
And EEEK! The election is in less than a week! Is anyone else FREAKING out?
Mame hasn't blogged in a million years because she's got a lot going on now. She's fine, it's fine. I mean, she's so busy that she's barely talked to me. Her best friend of 16 years. Ooooh, beat THAT for passive aggression, Mame. HA! I WIN!
However, we do talk online and we would like you all to watch this: Drunk History. Our favorite is the one featuring Michael Cera of Arrested Development/Superbad/Juno fame. He plays Alexander Hamilton. 'Nuff said, right? Mame and I quote it incessantly at each other. I don't usually find drunk ramblings all that amusing, but most drunk ramblings aren't this funny. They usually consist of complains of why someone doesn't love you anymore, how much someone is going to puke or paranoias about government conspiracies. Or do I just drink with the wrong people? Hmmm...
Also, I went to this with work friends. It was AWESOME. I've yet to go to a haunted house that was really SCARY, but this had its moments and was TONS of fun. Also, may I apologize on behalf of Quakers everywhere for inventing a prison system that drove people crazy. Oops.
In Halloween movie news, don't ever watch One Missed Call, the American remake. Not the Japanese original version. I'm sure that one's fine. The American one sucks ASS. I should have know because it has Shannyn Sossamyn or however you spell her name in it. I refuse to look it up. She sucks, the movie sucks and is only suitable for mocking. Especially when you have the peanut gallery of my family. That's good times. I do, however, want everyone to know that I wanted to rent High Tension and I was vetoed. My cousin Bri swore that One Missed Call was a good scary movie and whenever it sucked especially egregiously, we would all glare at her. Ha.
And EEEK! The election is in less than a week! Is anyone else FREAKING out?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
My Mosaic
I totally stole this idea from a friend of mine. It's a mosaic of "me."Enjoy!
My favorite color- purple
Dream vacation- Winter Cabin (with TONS of great reading material)
What makes me happy- Laughing with my friends
What I am- a teacher
My name- Auntie Mame
My favorite food- pizza
My favorite food- pizza
Favorite flower- Hydrengea
Where I am from- New Jersey
My favorite dessert- Oreo's and Milk
My favorite dessert- Oreo's and Milk
Monday, January 7, 2008
Ok, SERIOUSLY? I'm Apparently Twelve Years Old. Possibly Thirteen.
Ok, so I do this thing where I reallyreallyreally like something and I go on and on about it and drive everyone (including myself) INSANE over it and then it just kind of...fades out. I still like whatever it is, it just doesn't occupy the main stage of my brain anymore. Currently on the main stage of my brain? MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE. Seriously, you guys. I kind of hate myself right now. But, I just. REALLY LOVE THEIR MUSIC. (And also, I'm seriously late to the party because they've been around for awhile. Whatever.) I'm REALLY hoping that this one doesn't last long...
This weekend I went out and bought their latest cd, The Black Parade, because I'd heard bits of it and liked it. I'm forever buying new music because I have a really short attention span (obviously) and like to have variety. You guys! It is SO great! Today at lunch, I ran to Target and bought the previous cd, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, which I gave only a cursory listen because I wasn't ready to take my claws out of The Black Parade yet. I have pretty broad taste in music, but occasionally, I just like shit to rock. IS THAT SO WRONG?! I had to drive over to our other office for work today and just ROCKED OUT the whole way there and back with the volume WAY up. Which I don't usually do, because I don't like really loud music. I know, I'm old. My favorite songs: "This is How I Disappear," "The Sharpest Lives," "Welcome to the Black Parade," "I Don't Love You," "Teenagers" and "Famous Last Words." But all the other ones are great too. The dirty guitar riff in "Famous Last Words" makes me smile every time. And as I was listening to "The Sharpest Lives," I kept thinking, "Huh, this sounds like something else, it reminds me of something..." and then I realized. It sounds like a Queensryche song! AAAHH! Queensryche was my FAVORITE metal band for pretty much ALL of my teen years. I DEFY you to find me a more perfect album than Operation: Mindcrime. I won't hear any argument against it. Seriously.
I haven't been this nutty over a band since I discovered Snow Patrol and bought two of THEIR cds in about 48 hours. But. I didn't care about anyone who was actually IN Snow Patrol. If pressed, I might be able to come up with the name of their lead singer. (Um, Gary Lightfoot? Or something like that?) But, oh, My Chemical Romance. I have SUCH a crush on your guitarist, Frank Iero. He's adorable! He occasionally wears tiaras! He's one of those guitar players who flings himself about on stage! He has stupid hair! The whole band does! They're all very cute and odd-looking!
And, DUDE. Have you SEEN their videos? They are SO ridiculous! With FIRE and things BLOWING UP and GOTH ballet dancers and CORPSES! AHAHAH! They are very earnest! They want to SAVE THE WORLD with Rock and/or Roll!
I went on and on in this vein to EGT over IM the other night until she DEMANDED that I give her Mame's telephone number so that they could stage an intervention. HA! I didn't give it to her! Although...that WOULD be a great episode, wouldn't it?
Ugh.
It's only a matter of time before I'm shopping at Hot Topic, isn't it? I'm not proud of myself right now...heh.
This weekend I went out and bought their latest cd, The Black Parade, because I'd heard bits of it and liked it. I'm forever buying new music because I have a really short attention span (obviously) and like to have variety. You guys! It is SO great! Today at lunch, I ran to Target and bought the previous cd, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, which I gave only a cursory listen because I wasn't ready to take my claws out of The Black Parade yet. I have pretty broad taste in music, but occasionally, I just like shit to rock. IS THAT SO WRONG?! I had to drive over to our other office for work today and just ROCKED OUT the whole way there and back with the volume WAY up. Which I don't usually do, because I don't like really loud music. I know, I'm old. My favorite songs: "This is How I Disappear," "The Sharpest Lives," "Welcome to the Black Parade," "I Don't Love You," "Teenagers" and "Famous Last Words." But all the other ones are great too. The dirty guitar riff in "Famous Last Words" makes me smile every time. And as I was listening to "The Sharpest Lives," I kept thinking, "Huh, this sounds like something else, it reminds me of something..." and then I realized. It sounds like a Queensryche song! AAAHH! Queensryche was my FAVORITE metal band for pretty much ALL of my teen years. I DEFY you to find me a more perfect album than Operation: Mindcrime. I won't hear any argument against it. Seriously.
I haven't been this nutty over a band since I discovered Snow Patrol and bought two of THEIR cds in about 48 hours. But. I didn't care about anyone who was actually IN Snow Patrol. If pressed, I might be able to come up with the name of their lead singer. (Um, Gary Lightfoot? Or something like that?) But, oh, My Chemical Romance. I have SUCH a crush on your guitarist, Frank Iero. He's adorable! He occasionally wears tiaras! He's one of those guitar players who flings himself about on stage! He has stupid hair! The whole band does! They're all very cute and odd-looking!
And, DUDE. Have you SEEN their videos? They are SO ridiculous! With FIRE and things BLOWING UP and GOTH ballet dancers and CORPSES! AHAHAH! They are very earnest! They want to SAVE THE WORLD with Rock and/or Roll!
I went on and on in this vein to EGT over IM the other night until she DEMANDED that I give her Mame's telephone number so that they could stage an intervention. HA! I didn't give it to her! Although...that WOULD be a great episode, wouldn't it?
Ugh.
It's only a matter of time before I'm shopping at Hot Topic, isn't it? I'm not proud of myself right now...heh.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
BY LAWS (ROUND ONE)
This is a work in-process; Bea and I will update and change this often, I feel. These, dear readers, our the by-laws of Bea and my friendship:
1. One shall only call the other's cell phone twice if no one answers under cases of emergency.
1A. Or if there is something really important on TV
1B. Or if the voicemail screws up (we own really cheap cell phones)
2. One shall never call the other one bitch like it's a bad thing
2A. It is more than acceptable to call the other 'be-otch'
3. There must always be a whore.
3A. It's usually going to be Mame
3B. Unless it's an election year (HA!)
4. Bea must say at least once per half hour phone conversation, "Ugh, I hate you"
4A. Should the phone conversation last over two hours, Bea is no longer obligated to follow this rule.
5. When Mame tells Bea that she will call her back after her shower, she will not call back.
5A. When Beau is out of town, she might.
6. When visiting Jersey, Mame must bring Glow Worm to visit Bea's mother for no less than two (2) hours.
7. Important gossip or angry annoyances before 8AM must be in writing only.
7A. Replies to said writings must be ignored if before the first cup of coffee or sweet tea, respectively.
8. Bea must always understand when Mame goes on and on about either A) Glow Worm or B) her cats.
8A. No judgements will be made against Mame if she chooses to use voices during said bragging.
9. Mame must always understand that Bea will watch Supernatural over The Office on Thursday nights.
9A. Mame reserves the right to judge Bea about this.
10. Both Mame and Bea will always make fun of each other as "white trash" but will kick someone's ass should they use this title as a bad thing.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Better watch out, I keep a switchblade in my mouth!!
OK, not really. But when I tell people that I grew up in the Garden State, that is usually the stereotype they associate with it, so why not feed the fire? Now I live in white bread, buckle of the Bible Belt, America and it's important for people to realize I have a touch of crazy in me from where I grew up.
Flash forward to yesterday:
I'm on the phone with the cable company because for five years we have been on automatic payments, but this week we are switching banks and I have to cancel the payment scheduled for this week or else it will bounce and I'll get a fee. I call the little 800 # and spend about forty eight hours on hold or talking with the fun "Say your name" voice. Finally I get through to Carlos a man clearly not in love with his job, and angry at the world for his place in it. I explain the situation using my adorable "silly little girl" voice that usually works in these situations. Instead, when I finish my plight he responds with, "So what are you asking?" I clear my voice as it goes down an octave, "I need you to cancel the scheduled payment."
Carlos: I can't do that.
Me: Oh, well can you transfer me to someone who can?
Carlos: The payment is going to come out of your bank account no matter what. It's too late to stop it.
Me: (an octave lower and more pronounced) It's not scheduled to come out until Friday, today is Tuesday therefore it's not too late. Please transfer me to someone who can help me if you cannot.
Carlos: No one can help. We will be getting our payment on time.
Me: No, you won't I can call the bank and put a stop on the payment, however, if I have to call my bank I am going to make a second call to (fill in competitor's name). So you're telling me that there is no one in your office that can help me? I've been a good customer for five years and NO ONE can help?
Carlos: Hold on, I've got someone who can help you.
Me: I thought so.
Crappy music and intermittent ads for the cable company ensue
New Voice: This is Brian with disconnection services, how can I help you?
Me: Excuse me? What department is this?
Brian: This is where we schedule the appointments for our servicemen to come and disconnect your service.
Me: Oh HELL NO. GIVE ME A SUPERVISOR. NOW.
Brian: Um, OK.
Low and behold I speak to a supervisor using the following words: jack-hole, ignorant SOB, loyal customer of this fucking company, come down there and deal with this in his face, and you have no idea how many people you are dealing with by pissing me off!!!
The supervisor laughs at most of my colorful descriptions of the members of her staff, but in a very 'I'm with you' sort of way. By the time I'm done with my rant she has cancelled the payment, sent me an email to confirm it, and looked up Carlos' report of the incident. Apparently, I was talking for a very long time. The supervisor was excellent and tried to explain that disconnect's extension is 47 and hers is 74 so maybe Carlos was trying to transfer me to her and he inverted the numbers. I said disgruntledly, "maybe someone needs to invert his paycheck" (OK, I don't know what that was supposed to mean, but I was mad).
Between the CVS debacle's (see previous posts) and this I don't think I'm cut out for customer service. I need an assistant to deal with such things.
Flash forward to yesterday:
I'm on the phone with the cable company because for five years we have been on automatic payments, but this week we are switching banks and I have to cancel the payment scheduled for this week or else it will bounce and I'll get a fee. I call the little 800 # and spend about forty eight hours on hold or talking with the fun "Say your name" voice. Finally I get through to Carlos a man clearly not in love with his job, and angry at the world for his place in it. I explain the situation using my adorable "silly little girl" voice that usually works in these situations. Instead, when I finish my plight he responds with, "So what are you asking?" I clear my voice as it goes down an octave, "I need you to cancel the scheduled payment."
Carlos: I can't do that.
Me: Oh, well can you transfer me to someone who can?
Carlos: The payment is going to come out of your bank account no matter what. It's too late to stop it.
Me: (an octave lower and more pronounced) It's not scheduled to come out until Friday, today is Tuesday therefore it's not too late. Please transfer me to someone who can help me if you cannot.
Carlos: No one can help. We will be getting our payment on time.
Me: No, you won't I can call the bank and put a stop on the payment, however, if I have to call my bank I am going to make a second call to (fill in competitor's name). So you're telling me that there is no one in your office that can help me? I've been a good customer for five years and NO ONE can help?
Carlos: Hold on, I've got someone who can help you.
Me: I thought so.
Crappy music and intermittent ads for the cable company ensue
New Voice: This is Brian with disconnection services, how can I help you?
Me: Excuse me? What department is this?
Brian: This is where we schedule the appointments for our servicemen to come and disconnect your service.
Me: Oh HELL NO. GIVE ME A SUPERVISOR. NOW.
Brian: Um, OK.
Low and behold I speak to a supervisor using the following words: jack-hole, ignorant SOB, loyal customer of this fucking company, come down there and deal with this in his face, and you have no idea how many people you are dealing with by pissing me off!!!
The supervisor laughs at most of my colorful descriptions of the members of her staff, but in a very 'I'm with you' sort of way. By the time I'm done with my rant she has cancelled the payment, sent me an email to confirm it, and looked up Carlos' report of the incident. Apparently, I was talking for a very long time. The supervisor was excellent and tried to explain that disconnect's extension is 47 and hers is 74 so maybe Carlos was trying to transfer me to her and he inverted the numbers. I said disgruntledly, "maybe someone needs to invert his paycheck" (OK, I don't know what that was supposed to mean, but I was mad).
Between the CVS debacle's (see previous posts) and this I don't think I'm cut out for customer service. I need an assistant to deal with such things.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Undeserving...
I finally saw an episode of “The Sopranos.” I realize that I am a little ‘behind on the times’ (what else is new?), but I figured that since it is going off the air and I’ve already paid for HBO (see the entry Rome) why not?
It sucked. A lot. Aside from the few chuckles I had at the stereotypes of my beloved New Jersians, the writing was bad and the plot was more transparent than my kitchen windows that have been painted over and I can’t open.
Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be that girl that analyzes shows and points out plot holes and cyclical writing (I don’t have to, I’ve got Bea for that), but it was way too easy this time. For a show that has been on hiatus for, what, two years now? and has won about thirty Emmys, I had high expectations. But when one of the characters talks about never doing a hit even though his father was so terrific at it, and talks about being afraid to now because of DNA evidence then he is asked to do a hit – you kind of see where things are going. Especially when the talk about DNA evidence is predicated by a lengthy pause by the two characters as they both ponder what DNA evidence will ultimately do to their ‘work.’ I was gritting my teeth, waiting for a big and unexpected ‘twist’ during the last five minutes that would show me justification for those highly paid writers and their Emmys. However I was let down worse then when I found a box of my baby teeth in my mom’s jewelry box telling me there was no tooth fairy. In the end, the guy who has never done a hit, does and before dying, the victim grabs his shirt and dies with a piece of it clenched in his hand. The killer gets upset and runs off, dropping the gun on his way. How sad. Whatever.
Cut to Tony Soprano watching old family movies of he and his sister running through those same paved streets that my sister, Dolly, and I ran through. I wanted to get all nostalgic, but I notice that all the cars have yellow and black license plates. Funny, from the fifties until the late eighties, all New Jersey license plates were blue with white lettering. Way to do some freakin’ research.
I’m not complaining. Silly things like this I can overlook on TV shows shown on the WB, or UPN that get a budget comparable to my gross yearly income, but when a show’s actors and writers get more money than our national deficit, I expect perfection and intrigue. Silly me.
On a happier note, the Easter vaca to the aforementioned New Jersey was excellent. I brought Glow Worm around to meet Bea’s mother and step-dad and Brother WDWMTTAHOMB which was funny and adorable despite the conversation about Johnson & Johnson’s Night Time Touch Gel (hehehe). I came back to North Crack-O-Lacky with more Bayard’s Chocolates than I can handle (but I sure will try!), sweet memories of my L&M Bakery Easter cakes, and fried chicken with the family.Gots to go now, loves. Enjoy the rant.
It sucked. A lot. Aside from the few chuckles I had at the stereotypes of my beloved New Jersians, the writing was bad and the plot was more transparent than my kitchen windows that have been painted over and I can’t open.
Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be that girl that analyzes shows and points out plot holes and cyclical writing (I don’t have to, I’ve got Bea for that), but it was way too easy this time. For a show that has been on hiatus for, what, two years now? and has won about thirty Emmys, I had high expectations. But when one of the characters talks about never doing a hit even though his father was so terrific at it, and talks about being afraid to now because of DNA evidence then he is asked to do a hit – you kind of see where things are going. Especially when the talk about DNA evidence is predicated by a lengthy pause by the two characters as they both ponder what DNA evidence will ultimately do to their ‘work.’ I was gritting my teeth, waiting for a big and unexpected ‘twist’ during the last five minutes that would show me justification for those highly paid writers and their Emmys. However I was let down worse then when I found a box of my baby teeth in my mom’s jewelry box telling me there was no tooth fairy. In the end, the guy who has never done a hit, does and before dying, the victim grabs his shirt and dies with a piece of it clenched in his hand. The killer gets upset and runs off, dropping the gun on his way. How sad. Whatever.
Cut to Tony Soprano watching old family movies of he and his sister running through those same paved streets that my sister, Dolly, and I ran through. I wanted to get all nostalgic, but I notice that all the cars have yellow and black license plates. Funny, from the fifties until the late eighties, all New Jersey license plates were blue with white lettering. Way to do some freakin’ research.
I’m not complaining. Silly things like this I can overlook on TV shows shown on the WB, or UPN that get a budget comparable to my gross yearly income, but when a show’s actors and writers get more money than our national deficit, I expect perfection and intrigue. Silly me.
On a happier note, the Easter vaca to the aforementioned New Jersey was excellent. I brought Glow Worm around to meet Bea’s mother and step-dad and Brother WDWMTTAHOMB which was funny and adorable despite the conversation about Johnson & Johnson’s Night Time Touch Gel (hehehe). I came back to North Crack-O-Lacky with more Bayard’s Chocolates than I can handle (but I sure will try!), sweet memories of my L&M Bakery Easter cakes, and fried chicken with the family.Gots to go now, loves. Enjoy the rant.
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